Cold
by sunsetbabe17
Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers both became fugitives after the battle at the airport and have not seen each other since. She may have let him go, but they had been on opposite sides regarding the Sokovia Accords. Neither was really sure where they stood with the other anymore. Tensions run high as they meet again. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: Marvel owns the Avengers. This takes place post Captain America: Civil War.**

 **Cold**

Natasha brushed the wet hair plastered to her forehead out of her eyes as she fumbled with the keys to the apartment she was holing up in for the time being, her fingers numb from the cold. This would also probably be the last night she spent here after the events of the night, but she would worry about that tomorrow after she got some much needed rest.

With her senses still on high alert she whipped her knife across the room and was only able to adjust the direction slightly at the last moment as the figure came into focus.

"Jeez, Nat!" Steve cried as the sharp blade grazed the skin of his cheek instead of his jugular, which had been her original intent.

"Assassin, remember?" she retorted hotly, really not wanting to deal with Captain America right now. Closing and locking her door she made her way to the tiny kitchen. She really needed a drink and reaching into the cabinet above the sink she brought down a glass and unscrewed the top of her Yamskaya vodka. Then, she poured herself a generous amount and swallowed it all in one go, enjoying the burn as the liquid made its way down her slender throat.

"You're a hard person to find you know?" She kept her back to him as she poured herself another glass.

Shrugging, "I have a lot of enemies, since I'm a traitor to my country and all. Gained more through my work for SHIELD and with the Avengers. As a part of SHIELD and as an Avenger I was offered a modicum of protection. But on your orders I tore down the agency that took me in."

"That was Hydra," he defended his call to bring down SHIELD.

She gripped the counter so hard her knuckles were white. Yes, she knew it was the right call but he didn't seem to realize how hard it had been for her to be branded as a traitor to her agency yet again, even though it had really been the agency that had betrayed her. She had even spilled all her secrets for the world to see, painting a very large and public target on her back, and let pompous government officials bash her on capital hill. All for her Captain and what did she get in return?

"Then you ripped apart the Avengers," and what she didn't say, her family. For how messed up they all were, they had somehow bonded and became their own dysfunctional family unit. And Natasha had never really experienced that before and had tried so hard to keep them all together, just to watch it all slip through her fingers. She was left alone and constantly looking over her shoulder. She had signed the Accords, but in the end was a fugitive because she couldn't bring herself to raise a hand against this man that had come to mean so much to her.

"And for what? That monster!" She spat. The Black Widow was a hard person to kill, and the Winter Soldier had come close on more than one occasion, and she had yet to see any remorse.

"That _monster_ , is my best friend," he couldn't believe she of all people was reacting like this. He had read her file, and her past was very similar to Bucky's.

She whirled around at the sound of his approaching footsteps and stumbled as a wave of dizziness washed over her and her vision blurred around the edges.

On instinct he reached out and steadied her, and she gripped his forearms tightly in return and finally met his eyes.

"What were we? What was I?" she had thought there was something more between them after all they had been through together, but he had just tossed her aside without a second thought. You'd think she would be used to feeling like trash after all these years, but she thought he was different.

"Natasha, I..." he swallowed at a loss for words. He hadn't wanted to leave her behind, but it was Bucky. After losing Peggy, Bucky was the last tie to his former life. Unable to meet her piercing gaze he lowered his eyes. That's when he noticed it wasn't just rain water that was dripping from her clothes.

"Are you hurt?"

"Yes," he guided her to one of her rickety kitchen chairs and she rolled her eyes realizing he had meant physically. She had actually forgotten about it when her adrenaline started coursing again at the intruder in her apartment. That explains why the room was spinning though; she was getting worried that her alcohol tolerance had slipped.

Instead of taking the time to unbutton her blouse, he just ripped it open to get at the bullet wound in her side. In any other situation, she would have been turned on, but as it was there were too many emotions rolling through her that there wasn't room for anything else to be added to the mix. She couldn't even bring herself to tease him about her sitting half naked now in front of him.

His hands were warm against her cold skin as they prodded the wound, feeling around her back he didn't find an exit wound, meaning that the bullet was still inside.

"You need to go to the hospital," he wrapped an arm under her legs and leaned forward to scoop her up.

"No, they'd have to report it," she slapped his chest to put her down. They were both fugitives, and she didn't want to risk it. "Med kit is in the bathroom."

He rushed to the bathroom and found the first aid supplies. When he came back she had her head in her hand and was white as a ghost, "Nat?"

"I'm still here," she mumbled and he let out a breath of relief as he knelt in front of her and got to work.

She winced as he used the vodka to sterilize the wound, "Don't waste the vodka." She grabbed it from him and took a swig straight from the bottle. Against his better judgement he let her keep it as he dug out the bullet and sewed her back up.

Once he was finished, he smoothed down the last piece of tape and his fingers trailed over her stomach, tracing the scar she had shown him on her hip that the Winter Soldier had given her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Are you?" she pushed him aside. "Just go," with determined steps she made her way to her bedroom and collapsed in a heap on her bed.

He could swear that her mask had slipped and he saw tears welling in her eyes that she didn't allow to fall. Walking over to the sink, he washed her blood off his hands, but no matter how hard he scrubbed he could still feel it there.

Groaning, she rolled over and winced as her stitches pulled. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and peeled off her still slightly wet clothes in exchange for leggings and a hoodie to keep the cold at bay. The place was a shit hole and the heat didn't work.

Her mouth was dry and her head was pounding from dehydration due to the blood loss. That, and the alcohol probably hadn't helped. She lightly made her way to her fridge, grabbed a water bottle, and greedily drank it all. Screwing the cap back on, she walked to her garbage can and threw away the now empty bottle.

Then she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. There Steve Rogers was sprawled out on her lumpy couch, feet dangling off the edge in what surely must have been an uncomfortable position.

Finally taking in his appearance, she noticed the bags under his eyes and the new worry lines that adorned his face. Looked like times hadn't been easy for Captain America either. A shiver wracked her body, bringing her out of her musings.

Grabbing a blanket from the basket in the corner of the room, she wrapped herself around the slumbering soldier and covered them up. He wrapped an arm around her to secure her to his side and keep her from falling off the edge of the couch.

"It's cold," and she wasn't going to pass up the human furnace that was right in front of her and now that her anger had cooled she really was glad that he was here and alright. She had missed him. He just chuckled and she could feel the vibrations through his chest where her head was resting.


End file.
